All Angels

She was said to be born
out of a star intermingled
with lace. Her talents surpassed
all the hopes and dreams of
poets. She was born with a
blonde halo of hair with a murmur
of deep, compassionate love
in her deep oak eyes.

She lived her life between
the lines, caressing each
word as they floated about her.
She danced with the Gods
and held hands with the
most magical of faeries.

In the passionate moonlight,
fireflies hung around her
body, encasing her with
the most enchanting spec of
protection. She was a maiden
of the earth. A friend to
the skies and flowers.

The sky was a brisk blue,
and held up the most radiant
sun to ever grace the planet.
She sat in the fields mingling
with the daises and dandelions.
A small book lay smiling upon
her lap as her hand lazily flipped
through the naked page.

A bullet shot her through
the heart and ripped her
presence from the world
as a pool of blood soaked her halo.

All angels can be killed.

i really felt this poem! i liked how u put some feeling into it. i liked it a lot!! keep writing

Maybe you could've made it more mysterious and subtle by not using 'she' so much in your descriptions. But other than that I really loved this. It reminds me very much of something that I'd write. Those first few lines, despite them being written mainly as blank description, I thought were insanely beautiful.

Hmmm. Yeah, I see your point. I was orginally, I think, going for a more eulogy-type style, but kind of abandoned it in the 4th stanza. I'm not sure... I wrote it really late at night. Okay. I'll go revise it, then.

Thanks!

Okay: I went through, and changed some things... Let me know if you have any other suggestions:

She was said to be born
out of a star intermingled
with lace. Her talents surpassed
all the hopes and dreams of
poets. Birth provided a
blonde halo of hair with a murmur
of deep, compassionate love
designed in her deep oak eyes.

She lived her life between
the lines, caressing each
word as they floated about.
Dancing with the Gods
and holding hands with the
most magical of faeries was always
her favorite.

In the passionate moonlight,
fireflies hung around-
encasing her with
the most enchanting spec of
protection. A maiden
of the earth. A friend to
the skies and flowers.

The sky was a brisk blue,
and held up the most radiant
sun to ever grace the planet.
She sat in the fields mingling
with the daises and dandelions.
A small book lay smiling upon
her lap as her hand lazily flipped
through the naked page.

A bullet shot her through
the heart and ripped her
presence from the world
as a pool of blood soaked her halo.

All angels can be killed.

Yeah, I think that sounds better now. It wasn't majorly flawed before, but I think now there's a change in the pattern... of... something or other... I don't know how to explain what I mean... I just think your imagery is so damn pretty though, you really do have a gorgeous way with words.